


What Kind Of Man

by Lothiriel84



Series: How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Canon, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, MJN Air Is A Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: And with one kiss, you inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years.





	

“It’s the natural place to start,” Douglas had quipped. If only he knew.

For a moment there, he thought his secret was out. Thankfully his First Office appeared to be none the wiser, much to his relief.

The truth was, Dirk was the very last person Martin would be afraid of. Yes, he was nearly twice his size, and yes, he could probably break him with one hand tied behind his back; goodness knew that only added to the thrill of their clandestine rendezvous, Dirk’s sturdier frame caging him against the grubby tiles of the disused disabled toilet at the back of the hangar.

He wasn’t as naive as everybody else seemed to assume. He was fully aware where they both stood in that odd little arrangement; they had needs, just like any other man, and they were both consenting adults – attraction didn’t even have to be factored in the equation.

It was bad enough that he was a lousy pilot, and a pathetic excuse for captain on no salary at all. He simply couldn’t afford the reputation that came with being out of the closet, and looking for a stable relationship.

(“No son of mine,” his father had once stated, disgust apparent in his voice as he glared at the couple walking hand in hand past their front door. Young Martin had struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat, then excused himself to his room shortly after.)

 

“My friend Tim is getting married next week,” Arthur announced apropos of nothing, placing two steaming mugs on the cluttered desk.

Douglas didn’t even bother to look up from his crosswords, unerringly located his mug without spilling a single drop of it. “Wouldn’t do it if I were him,” he muttered, his tone clearly conveying his complete lack of interest. So much for a man who claimed he was a happily married man, and to his third wife on top of that.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew Harry,” Arthur said with conviction. “He’s such a lovely guy, and really funny too.”

Martin nearly choked on his coffee, helplessly succumbed to a coughing fit.

“Good grief, Martin.” Douglas promptly relieved him of his mug, looked about two seconds away from giving him the Heimlich maneuver. “Makes one wonder how you even made it past thirty.”

“Give me a break,” he wheezed at length, clutching at his friend’s shoulder as a reflex.

“For heaven’s sake, it’s just a gay wedding, not the end of the world,” Carolyn chipped in, for all the world sounding as if she might kill him if he dared to die while they were on standby.

 

They flew to Albacete a couple of months after the Johannesburg incident, and Martin discovered he had all but forgotten just how easy on the eye Spaniards were.

“Little orange warning light still not broken?” Diego joked as he pushed a drink in front of him, happily ignoring the cheeky look the bartender was shooting in their general direction.

He was three sips into his nauseatingly sweet cocktail when Martin’s brain finally caught up with the situation. The man was flirting with him, properly flirting, and he wouldn’t have believed his luck, if only he’d had the slightest idea how to go on about it.

“Mm, English men always play hard to get. I like it.”

Martin only knew he’d moved when his lips crashed somewhat inelegantly against Diego’s. “Not that hard to get,” he breathed, almost but not quite knocking his drink off the table in his haste.

“My office is really nice,” Diego offered, winking suggestively. “And the door locks.”

“That’s – good to know,” he managed, his voice sounding oddly choked to his own ears. “I, um – what did you say Spanish cockerels say?”

“I’ll show you,” the other man promised with a grin.

Martin was nearly late for takeoff the next morning, but apart from Carolyn glaring daggers at him, no one dared to comment upon it.

 

“...and then the hotel manager asked if it was a traditional wedding, or a gay one. Tim looked as if he was seriously considering murdering him, but the man assured it was not a problem either way. In fact, nothing seemed to be a problem, except when Harry asked if they had a pool there, and the manager told him he had no idea, and they should work it out for themselves.”

Martin rubbed absentmindedly at spot on his neck where a fading mark was barely hidden by the collar of his shirt. The air was stifling inside the Portakabin, but there was no way he could undo a single button without making it even more apparent to everyone what he and Diego had been up to not two days ago.

Douglas smirked, and penned another number into his Sudoku.


End file.
